


Lessons Learned

by Diomede



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, F/M, Failed Seduction, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, Post-Bad Wolf Bay, Prime versus Pete's World, Romance, Tentoo gets bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diomede/pseuds/Diomede
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each day brings a new lesson for Rose and Tentoo as they acclimate to Pete's World. As they start to learn a little more about each other, Tentoo learns that some things are best left unassumed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfic! Thank you to the lovely Faithosaurus for betaing my work and pushing me to start writing.

Being wrapped in soft cotton on the best bed money could buy wasn’t the worst way to wake up, Rose reflected. The cause of the awakening was another matter, however.  That ticklish little feeling, a sense really, a gentle knowledge that something or someone is stirring in the same room as you.

It was only a week after her latest trip from Bad Wolf Bay and she had stayed in her room at her parents’ mansion. Not alone, but with the object of her affections, who was now waking her up with his insistence on padding about the room.

It had almost become routine. The Doctor would retire with her to the bedroom at night and stay in said room until she would leave it. After the third day she had grown accustomed to the sound of the shower in her en suite in the early morning hours. Although he needed more sleep in this body, he didn’t need nearly as much as her. He had delighted in telling her this for the first four days, until a hard pillow taught him that further reminders were unnecessary.

Rose shifted onto her back and waited. Soon the bed would depress and she would hear her name.

“Rose? Roooooose.”

She learned this on the fifth day.

Rose pulled the duvet from her face to see a bespectacled Doctor looking down expectantly at her. On the TARDIS, she would wake in a similar way with the Time Lord prodding her awake to start another adventure. She never would have imagined that she would desperately miss being woken up by a jubilant alien, but now this sight was a reminder that the last four years were over and that a sense of normalcy had been restored.

Well, normal for _them,_ anyway.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. It’s almost half eight; I was wondering when you’d wake up,” the Doctor chided her, eyes alight with mischief.

Rose peered around the room and noticed the stack of books next to the wingback chair. In the early hours of the morning, the Doctor had taken it upon himself to read every book in sight and mentally catalogue the differences between the prime universe and Pete’s World. He called it “acclimation research”, but Rose knew what it was. He didn’t want to leave the safety of the room and expose himself to one Jackie Tyler, who could then bombard him with questions. That was the lesson he learned on the second day; Jackie was an early bird.

Smiling up at the Doctor, Rose shifted to her elbows. “Well, you look like the cat that caught the canary. Out with it then.”

The Doctor, in a mock pose of shock, gaped at her as he motioned to stand beside the bed. “Rose Tyler, I have been waiting three hours and twenty seven minutes to tell you the discoveries I’ve made while you were nestled in your warm little cocoon. First, I’ve cataloged which authors decided against using a pen name. I’ve also noted if that move alone increased or decreased their level of notoriety. Second, some of these books are just rubbish. I never knew you the type for bodice rippers. Take this one for example…”

 _Bodice rippers?_  Rose wasn’t one for trashy romance novels. Sure she had a few love stories on her bookshelf but those were Christmas presents from her mum and largely unread. What on earth was he going on about?

“…but it is interesting that in one of these the protagonist is a female that stowed away to find her lost love on an island in the Pacific. She runs into an unrealistically young and gorgeous pirate that kidnaps her and tries to woo her. So I cross-referenced the material with two others and they are _all_ pirates in the Oceania area…”

By this time Rose was listening to him from her en suite as she brushed her teeth. His voice faded in and out as she went on about her morning routine. She thought it quite entertaining that he still kept going on as she closed the door to use the loo properly. As she turned the shower on, she idly wondered whether the Doctor having Internet access might be a good or bad thing.

As the multiple jets of water hit her, Rose felt as if she was finally waking up. Showering had been very utilitarian growing up on the estate; jump in and jump out before the water got too cold. Living on the TARDIS had changed it into something therapeutic, however. She had never dreamed that numerous jets combined with heat and pressure could make her feel like a new woman. It had become her favorite retreat on the time ship. Good day, bad day or just frustrated (in more ways than one), her private spa would rejuvenate her.

After Canary Wharf, the first thing she had done in her new room was to curl up in the shower and cry. When she finally emerged amidst a cloud of steam, skin radiating pink and wrapped in fluffy towels, Jackie had been waiting for her on Rose’s bed. She held her sobbing daughter as she joked that they didn’t have to time when the hot water would cut out. Three weeks later, Rose asked if she could redo her en suite. Jackie and Pete saw this as her settling into this new life, but she needed something reminiscent of her home on the TARDIS and this shower was it.

Rose spent months picking out the glass tiles that were the same shade of Women Wept’s frozen crests. The TARDIS indulged her after visiting the frozen sea with her first doctor, and kept the decor the same well after she traveled with her new, new doctor. It was only when Pete’s third contractor guaranteed that the coating would prevent the verdigris on the coral-like copper from forming did Rose confirm the remodel complete. It was hard to explain, but she felt that she finally had a place where she could think. Most of the problems of the dimension cannon were solved here, where her head was clear and her thoughts could float freely.

“…can you believe it Rose? Without Spain in the colonization race, the Caribbean wasn’t a factor in trade routes until much later! So the spice trade continued to focus further east…”

She knew this shower brought him solace as well. When she had first shown it to him, a mixture of recognition and awe had struck across his brow. She watched as he fingered the hammered copper tiles lining the soft aqua glass that surrounded them. She had wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered, “I miss her too.” The Doctor had reciprocated the hug and with his head burrowed in her neck, she’d felt his warm tears streaking across her neck. The second day had reinforced her suspicions. She’d learned that he was not only the Doctor, but he was still _her_ Doctor.

As she turned the water off, she could still hear his voice through the door. Grabbing a towel from the rack, she smoothed the droplets of water off her body and cracked the door open a bit to better hear him and go through the agenda of the day. First, she needed to clear those books up or someone would trip over them…again. Usually, her room was vacant except for her visits on the weekends, but that didn’t keep the housekeeper from dusting and vacuuming. She didn’t like someone picking up after her (even the TARDIS learned to only do little things for its favorite human) and it seemed like more things were accumulating in her room.

“Rose. You’re listening, right?”

Without a thought, she shouted her agreement through the towel that was currently pressing the water from her hair. She heard him begin again, something about eastern literature, and she hurried to finish drying off. Best to get downstairs and get the day underway.

Exiting the en suite in a dressing gown, Rose seized the chance to break him out of his rambling by planting a kiss on that unstoppable gob. “Hungry? Mum has probably started the tea already.”  She looked into his eyes wondering why he hadn’t motioned for the door yet.

The Doctor raised a book in his hand and lifted an eyebrow. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you Rose?”

She had, well _mostly_ , but she had no clue what book he was holding. It appeared to be another book that had snuck its way into her room. She was going to have to talk to him about bringing books downstairs to the lounge, because the once half-full bookshelf no longer had room on it. Looking at the books perched on the arm rest, she spied the novels he’d mentioned before. Her smile grew; she couldn’t wait to tell him that he’d been reading her mum’s books.

One corner of her mouth quirked slightly, lending her expression a decidedly cheeky air. “I wouldn’t say that, precisely. I _was_ in the shower, you know.”

The Doctor closed the gap between them, book still in hand and whispered, “Remember how we said that we’d take things slowly and try to re-connect by doing what we used to do in the TARDIS? Well, I’d very much like to continue the tradition of a little light reading before bed.”

Nights of them curled up in the library flooded back into her mind. She longed for those nights where a good cuppa and his soothing voice would warm her up in more ways than one. Although those nights were chaste, the look in his eyes now stated otherwise. “I think I could be persuaded. D’ya have anything in mind to start with?”

“Well,” the Doctor sniffed, “I have to admit it’s not a traditional narration, but we could work our way through it.”

Ah. So they wouldn’t be starting with Dickens, but she was fine with not having to hear his dissertation afterwards of how big an allegorical misstep was not to name Mr. Murdstone as such. Placing her hand on his wrist, she lifted the book higher to see if she recognized it. Bound in dark leather, the large thin book looked well read as its spine was soft. From her angle, nothing was on the spine, but she couldn’t quite make out the embossed inscription on the cover. “Light reading then?”

The Doctor slid one hand around her waist and pulled her close to him. She pressed up against him, looking up through her eyelashes and into the brown eyes she’d spent years trying to get back to. Quietly, he whispered, “Well, I’ve noticed a few changes but it’s all just in the translation really. One man’s lotus is another man’s water lily.”

Wait. Everything within her being ground to a halt and her eyes grew wide.

“Rose?”

The Doctor had been giving her the bedroom eyes she’d fantasized about many a night. His lips were just within a hairsbreadth of hers and she had to steady herself with one hand on his shoulder. He looked unsure, aware that he’d made a misstep, but not quite certain where it had been.

“Rose?” He took a small step back, trying to read her features as his voice became strained.

Slowly, Rose twisted the hand on his wrist, exposing the two ornate words pressed into the leather.

Kama Sutra.

The ensuing laugh she issued surprised them both.

“What?! Too soon? Rose, I’m so sorry, I just thought that since it was here that you’d…”

Rose was laughing so hard she’d doubled over. Shuffling to the bed, she plopped down and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. Utterly dejected, the Doctor walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, careful to not touch her. Trying to get herself under control, Rose grabbed his thigh and scooted them closer together. With legs pressed together, he seemed a bit more reassured by her touch as her laughter subsided.

“You know, that was not the reaction I was going for.” The Doctor was fully pouting now.

With one last whooshing sigh, she looked up at him, smiling. Her features softened as she took him in. “I’m so sorry, Doctor. But I love you far too much to subject you to that.” She slid her hand into her sleeve and used it to grasp the book. Without preamble, she flung the book away toward the stack, successfully knocking it over.

Completely confused, the Doctor looked at his pink and yellow girl trying to will understanding of the situation. Rose rolled the sleeves back to her elbows and turned to cup his face. Ever so gently, Rose bestowed a soft lingering kiss on his lips. The Doctor fell into the kiss and griped her thigh where it pressed against his.

“I just wanted to show you how much I, um. I—“

“It’s not mine.” She cuts him off. The Doctor looked at her blankly.

“The book? It’s not _mine_.”

Realization dawned across his face like a bonfire in the night. Suddenly, the expression was changed to one of fear as he raced to the en suite. Chuckling lightly, Rose entered the tiled room to find the Doctor furiously scrubbing his hands. Soothingly rubbing her hands up and down his back, she locked eyes with him in the mirror and gave him a wide smile. The Doctor deflated a bit and reached for a towel to dry his hands.

“Feel better?”

The Doctor just shrugged. “Not really. I feel sullied, shaken and other words that would fit into an alliterative description on what just transpired.”

Rose closed the door behind her with one foot and began to untie the sash of her dressing gown. “How about I scrub your back as we discuss which books we should get for the flat back in London?”

 

On the eighth day they learned just how well the hot water supply at the Tyler mansion worked.

 


End file.
